


Your Princess is in Another Castle

by fudgernutter



Category: Undertale (Video Game), Undertale AU - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Gen, Multi, Necromancy, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-24 09:14:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18568360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fudgernutter/pseuds/fudgernutter
Summary: A run-away Princess, two Knights in shining armor and an Evil Necromancer. Sounds like a familiar story, right?Wrong.You're not really a Princess, you're just the daughter of an important Duke who wants to marry you off to the crown Prince rather than do any of the things you are actually good at. The Knights in shining armor? People who your father lied to and hired to take you back home against your will. The Evil Necromancer? The person who has protected you and acted like more of a Mother to you than any court floozy could be.You really just want to live your life the way you want to but these skeletons really keep getting in your way. But as much as you hate to admit it, you think you might be getting attached...





	Your Princess is in Another Castle

**Author's Note:**

> A new work! A lighthearted feel-good work! What does this mean for the other pieces? *insert shrug emote*
> 
> Tags for this chapter:  
> Discriptions of being captured, corpses/dead bodies... and that's it?
> 
> Let me know if I missed anything! Nothing should be too gruesome. Even if I normally like gruesome.

Sans wakes up chained in a dungeon.

Well, perhaps he should take a couple steps back: Sans wakes up confused, cold and achy. 

His armor and studded padding has been removed, leaving him only in his britches, linen undershirt and vest in the colors of the Crown. He’s crumbled up in a dark cobblestone corner like a rag doll tossed aside by a child who just received a better, newer toy. It’s not the first time he’s fallen asleep somewhere he wasn’t supposed to. He’s spent more than one night passed out in the alley: behind Grillby’s Tavern comes to mind instantly, but he doesn’t recognize where he is. He can’t help but to groan, he feels like he’s taken a major hit to his noggin, or drank a couple pints.

It takes him a while to obtain his facilities, but then he remembers- Walking into the Wastes on a quest from the Crown for a request from an allied Kingdom and being ambushed. They hadn’t even seen their attackers, that how fast and hard Papyrus and him- Papyrus!

Panicked, Sans’s skull aches with the force of how hard he whips his head to look for his younger brother. He doesn’t have to look far luckily. Papyrus has also been stripped of his armor and placed on a metal-framed cot which has been bolted to the floor. Sans does a quick Check and finds that nothing is amiss with him. His brother hasn’t even lost any HP, and is instead just sleeping away, completely unbothered by the soft flickering light of a mage-fire lantern hanging just outside the iron door. 

Sans sighs in relief and involuntarily reaches up to rub his face with his hands when the distinct rattle of chain distracts him. Attached to his left hand is what he recognizes as a cold iron chain. He follows it with his eye-lights only to find that it is, in fact, bolted into the stone and mortar wall. The fact that he is chained up makes him blink and pause for a second.

Then he chuckles. Cold iron is a myth from before the Great War and really has no effect on him, his brother, or any Monster for that matter. So, although he knows his magic stores are depleted, he reaches deep down inside himself to pull off one last teleport and-

Nothing.

Nothing happens. He can feel his magic _there_. Right there where it always sits. But it’s like an instead of a pool of water to dip into, it’s like trying to poke your finger into a vat of gelatin. So he presses harder. And harder. And _harder_.

Until he feels the pain in his head becomes so bad the soft, flickering light of the lantern feels like someone is stabbing him in the eye-sockets with sewing needles. So Sans just does what he does best. And waits. And takes a nap.

When he wakes up again, it’s because of the very distinct sound of his brother. His oh-so-cool, overly-polite, but loud brother.

“BROTHER. PST! ARE YOU AWAKE?”

“i ‘m now,” he grumbles, hardly coherent but knowing if he doesn’t respond Papyrus will only become more and more persistent.

“OH. GOOD! ARE YOU OKAY? YOU SEEM TO ALSO BE CHAINED UP AT THE MOMENT BUT I WAS HOPING THAT, AND NO PRESSURE REALLY, YOU COULD ACCESS YOUR SHORTCUTS?”

Sans sighs and opens one eye-socket to look at his brother. “hate t’ say it bud, but no dice. these chains got some kind’a magic dampening effect.”

“THAT IS… NOT GOOD. BECAUSE ALTHOUGH THE GREAT PALADIN PAPYRUS IS VERY STRONG, IT SEEMS LIKE THEY CHAINS HAVE ALSO DAMPENED MY GREAT STRENGTH!” Papyrus sits down on the cot with a huff, wringing his hands as he stares out the iron door.The motion causes Sans’s attention to be drawn to a chain locked around Papyrus’s right arm like the one around his own left.

“great,” Sans groans, closing his eye-socket again and rolling his head back and forth against the cool wall of the dungeon. He immediately wishes that he would have never listened to Papyrus’s boasting about being able to ‘TAKE DOWN THE INFAMOUS HAND OF DEATH WITH JUST HIS BROTHER AND HIS EXCESSIVE GREATNESS’. Sans has always encouraged Papyrus but maybe this is the one time where he should’ve put a hold on everything to wait for some backup. He only hopes that the Necromancer, also known as The Hand of Death, might let them live long enough for some of the other Royal Knights to arrive and rescue them.

“SANS! DO YOU HEAR THAT? SOMEONE IS COMING!” 

And sure enough, it sounds like two sets of footsteps. One large with very distinct and slow footfalls, and a smaller one, almost hidden behind the sound of the other. But almost as soon as the sound was heard, a scent wafted into their cell: a combination of myrrh, sandalwood and something distinctly rotten. Sans hears the distinct squeak of old metal hinges being moved then-

“OH HELLO, SHAMBLING HUMAN CORPSE. I DON’T SUPPOSE YOU HAVE ANY INTELLIGENCE WHAT-SO-EVER AND COULD BE PERSUADED TO LET ME AND MY BROTHER GO?”

Sans opens his eyes and finds that Papyrus is standing again, turned to the door of the cell, addressing a half-rotten human corpse that was struggling to pull a key out of the iron lock. The corpse pays no mind to his brother’s strange but otherwise kind query, and just wheezes and groans until it finally rattles the key out of the lock.

“sorry bro, it looks like it just doesn’t have the brains to understand you,” Sans quips back, unable to stop his chuckling at the absurdity of the situation. This time both the zombie and his brother groan and really, it is kind of hilarious. 

“REALLY SANS?” Papyrus sighs, folding his arms across his chest, looking down at him. “IS THIS THE TIME AND PLACE?”

Sans goes to respond when the iron door is practically slammed open by another zombie, almost squishing the first in the process. This one almost three times larger than the one before it and has to hunch down considerable to pass through the doorway. Once it enters, Sans takes note that it is an amalgamation of parts, human and creature alike. Fine stitching weaving the pieces together in an almost symmetrical pattern. The legs are bear like, arms some kind of primeape, while the chest and head mostly human. The creature pauses, taking in the first zombies displeased groaning before it lumbers over to Sans and literally pulls the chain off the wall with him attached, leaving a gaping hole where the cobblestone block was. Then, using the chain like a lead-line, pulls him over to Papyrus where it proceeds to do the same thing to Papyrus’s chain. 

“EXCUSE ME??? IS THIS REALLY NECESSARY?” Papyrus huffs, indignant as he is tugged along as it pulls them both outside the dungeon door.

“i don’t really think they care bro,” Sans responds, jogging to keep up with the creature’s giant lumbering steps, watching in amusement as the smaller zombie struggles to dislodge the door from where it had been practically embedded in the dungeon’s wall to shut the it behind them.

Sans struggles to see past the lumbering giant in front of him. The exit is actually not too far away by stairs leading upwards at the the end of a rather short hallway from the few glimpses he gets past the creature in front of him. There is only one other holding cell with the same iron door can tell. There are a few other simple wooden doors greets them before they are led up and into the bright midday sunlight. 

Blinded for a bit, Sans eye-lights fight to adjust. When he is able to look, he’s surprised to see instead of a dungeon and into a castle compound, the two Skeleton brothers have been pulled out of what must have been a converted ground cellar and into a lush forest that looked rather out of place for being in the Wastes. Whatever Sans was expecting from a Necromancer’s lair this wasn’t really it. 

They’re then led just out of the forest line and into a large clearing. Just from his position, Sans can see a rough wooden fence surrounding lush vegetable patches filled with both magical and mundane flora sprouting from the well tended gardens. In the distance a large greenhouse sits shiny and almost new. 

And in the center of the whole clearing is a spacious looking cottage. With large fancy windows with window-boxes containing exotic flowers that would cost most _Royalty_ a pretty penny and well-tended hedges surrounding the building itself, it looks more like a wealthy retreat than the home of the feared Hand of Death, Necromancer of the Wastes. The pleasant scenery is such a step away from what he was imagining, Sans feels the dread that had been pooling in the pit of his non-existent stomach solidify into a brick. Something is very _wrong_ here.

As they get closer they get to the cottage, Sans notices that one of the large windows in the front has been thrown open. The now familiar scent of sandalwood and myrrh, as well as the scent of fresh baked goods and other herbs, waft on the breeze from the inside. On the windowsill sits a few loaves of bread and even a pie. With a clatter, a new pie ends up on the sill, and the person putting it there to cool notices the group.

“Oh! Lunk, I see you’ve grabbed our visitors from the guest rooms,” the woman in the window says, her voice a tittering singsong. She’s tall, taller than Papyrus, and thinner than any human that Sans has ever seen before. Her skin is pale too, with a sickly gray-green complexion that he knew wasn’t quite natural. Even her hair seemed to be an unnatural shade of blonde, long and pulled back out of her gaunt face. She waves them in, “Come on in, come on in! The mincemeat just came out of the oven and I just put the kettle on.”

Lunk, an apt name for the giant zombie, groans his assent before carefully opening the door and pushing both Papyrus and Sans inside into a dining area. Cozy and plain, it’s filled with bits and baubles in every nook and cranny: thick handmade rugs, small decorative plates and paintings, plants in small jars in empty corners. A heavy looking wooden table sits center next to an unlit fireplace with five place-settings already out and waiting.

“I’m sure you boys are hungry!” The pale lady chuckled, walking out from what must have been the kitchen with a teapot and some cups on a silver tray. “Unfortunately we can’t eat quite yet as my husband and my daughter aren’t back from the fields yet you see, but why don’t you two take a seat and I can pour you some tea?”

Both Sans and Papyrus shared a look. 

“WE WOULD BE REMISS TO IGNORE SUCH GRACIOUS HOSPITALITY,” Papyrus interjected and Sans nodded to show his acquiescence.

“Fantastic! Then I suppose those chains aren’t necessary anymore now are they, hmm?” A quick snap of her fingers and the chains dropped off, but the iron cuffs did not. Sans let out a sigh of relief as the additional weight was lifted, but neither he nor Papyrus made any more to sit. “Now Lunk, be a dear and let John and Y/N know that it is time for supper. Oh, and take those chains back to the cellar please. Now, off you go!”

For a few moments they all watched as Lunk slowly ambled away before the lady clapped her hands, drawing the two brother’s attention, and then sitting down. Sans noticed, that although both hands were supernaturally slender, one was still covered in that off-colored skin while the other was bone. Then it all clicked.

Sans heard Papyrus gulp beside him.

“Now, why don’t we all sit down and have a bit of chat while we wait for the rest of the family hmm? Please,” the lady, no, the Necromancer known as The Hand of Death, motioned pointedly at two of the many empty chairs at the table. “Have a seat; I really _do_ insist.”


End file.
